


our own divide

by eeshlyye



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Introspection, Love Confessions, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26852242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeshlyye/pseuds/eeshlyye
Summary: Lucy’s eyes are impossibly wide, her mouth parted as she watches Morgan. Morgan leans in ever closer until she’s speaking against Lucy’s lips. “One look at you and I know everything you feel.”Morgan expects a flustered smile, or even a breathy laugh, but instead Lucy falters.Visiblyfalters.The detective manages a confession of sorts. Morgan does not react well.
Relationships: Female Detective/Morgan (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	our own divide

**Author's Note:**

> Explicit rating is for dirty talk and internal reflection. There’s no actual intercourse.
> 
> It’s also not an unhappy ending per se because they obviously _will_ get together eventually, but just as a warning, it’s not wrapped up neatly with confessed feelings on both sides in this particular fic.
> 
> EDIT: This is a **completed** fic. I won’t be adding another chapter, sorry! Please, no need to subscribe :D

They manage six rounds before Lucy collapses.

It’s not a graceful dismount off of Morgan’s face by any definition of the word. Morgan watches with half amusement, half pride as Lucy does her best to rearrange her shaking limbs before finally collapsing on her back at Morgan’s side.

She looks as wrecked as Morgan feels, body beautifully flushed with orgasm and chest heaving with breath.

Morgan thought she knew sex. For someone who’s been around for over a hundred years and fucked her way through most of it, she should. Sex is just a transaction — a pleasureable one, sure — but a transaction where both or more parties pay in orgasms. All parties should enjoy themselves, come at least once, and at the end, Morgan walks away without a backwards glance.

She’s had good sex, great sex, kinky sex. It’s all supposed to be hot and fun and meaningless. Not hot and fun and fucking earth-shattering to the point where Morgan’s sometimes left stunned, staring up at the ceiling.

But with Lucy, it is.

With Lucy, everything is too much and not enough.

With Lucy, she’s single-minded in her conquest. One touch, and the world fades. Loud ambient noises, harsh lights, overpowering smells — all gone, until all Morgan registers is Lucy and Lucy alone and the only thing that matters is drowning her in enough pleasure so she’s as overwhelmed by Morgan as Morgan is by her.

Every fucking gasp, every moan, every orgasm Morgan wrings from Lucy’s body is a victory. She’s so fucking hungry for it, for every reaction Lucy gives her, and all she wants is more.

Sex has never been like _this_.

Even now, after they’ve finished, Morgan can’t focus on anything but the sound of Lucy breathing, or the scent of Lucy’s blood, or Lucy’s taste lingering on her tongue. She looks over, inordinately pleased to see Lucy still struggling to catch her breath.

Just because she can, Morgan shifts closer to slant her mouth over Lucy’s. Even out of breath, Lucy’s always beautifully responsive. One taste does more than an entire pack of cigarettes and as she licks into Lucy’s mouth, Morgan’s more than happy she’s found this substitute. 

She alternates the kiss between languid and demanding, knowing it’ll fluster Lucy even further, and grins in triumph when Lucy breaks away on a whimper to breathe. 

“God, I hate it when you do that,” she mutters, throwing an arm across her face.

Morgan grins. “No, you don’t.”

“...No, I don’t,” she agrees, laughing slightly. She peers at Morgan from beneath her arm. Even after all this time, after everything they’ve done, Lucy still hasn’t managed to rid herself of this shyness and it’s more than a little endearing. “How on earth do you just...reach into my brain and pull out all the things I like, every time?”

“You’re not as hard to read as you think,” Morgan says smugly.

Lucy squints at her and lowers her arm to her side. “No, I’m an enigma,” she protests. “A woman of mystery and intrigue.”

“Sweetheart, please,” Moran snorts. “You’re an open book.”

Morgan doesn’t know if she’s met someone who wears their thoughts as freely as Lucy does. Every fucking thing she thinks can be read from the top of her head to her toes. Like how Lucy’s tiny fists ball in fury, shoulders up to her ears, whenever that asshole reporter slash ex opens her mouth. Or how she lights up whenever she’s talking with Nat about what they think are cool facts but totally aren’t.

Or the way her entire body seizes up in terror at any mention of Murphy. Morgan pushes that thought away abruptly. At any rate, Lucy has the _worst_ poker face and it’s well known she can’t lie for shit, but Morgan’s not above using it to her advantage in the bedroom. Or even out of it.

“When I do something you like…” She leans over and trails a finger over Lucy’s collarbone. Lucy shivers deliciously. “Your breath hitches and you make this sexy little gasp. And when I do something you _really_ like, your body goes tight for just a second, like you’re not sure you should like it,” Morgan continues, hand moving to rest lightly on Lucy’s stomach. “But then you moan so sweetly and your breathing picks up and your eyes go hazy."

“Oh,” Lucy whispers.

“And when you’re about to come...” — this is Morgan’s favorite part — “your thighs clench and you hold your breath and start to _beg_.”

Lucy’s eyes are impossibly wide, her mouth parted as she watches Morgan. Morgan leans in ever closer until she’s speaking against Lucy’s lips. “One look at you and I know everything you feel.”

Morgan expects a flustered smile, or even a breathy laugh, but instead Lucy falters.

 _Visibly_ falters.

What…?

Something complicated crosses her face, an unsettling cocktail of shock, nervousness, panic. She withdraws from Morgan’s touch, putting a few inches between them like she’s trying to regroup, and that more than anything unnerves Morgan.

After a very pregnant pause, Lucy finally says, “I...I hope I’ve never made you uncomfortable, then.”

“Why the fuck would I be uncomfortable?” Morgan automatically replies. She is, though. She’s so fucking uncomfortable right now, seeing Lucy like this and not understanding why.

“Morgan...come on…”

“Tell me.” Morgan reaches for her again to pull her close, but Lucy jerks back.

“ _Don’t_.”

Morgan recoils. Lucy’s looking back at her with skittish eyes, but then she groans and runs her hands down her face.

“I’m sorry,” she says in a small voice. “I’m just...really annoyed with myself right now. It’s not your fault and I didn’t mean to take it out on you.” She drops her hands and turns to Morgan again. There’s self reproach in her eyes and a wobbly smile on her mouth.

Morgan hates it. She doesn’t get it, and she hates it, because Lucy should never be anything but happy, but she waits patiently for Lucy to say what’s on her mind. The careful six inches between them feels infinitely wider.

“I know what this is.” Lucy starts slow, like it’s a struggle to get these words out. “I know that you and I are only having sex and that’s all you want. I promise, I _do_ know. But...but when you hold me like that or say things that show you care, it’s so easy for me to forget you don’t love me back. That’s all.” She lifts a shoulder in a small half-shrug and gives Morgan a sad, rueful smile. “You don’t need to tell me how stupid I am. I did my best to hide how I feel, but I’m sure you caught some of it. I really am sorry, especially if it made you uncomfortable. I know you don’t like complicated feelings.”

Morgan can’t breathe. She can’t. Her mouth goes so dry and she has no idea how to process what just happened other than to run Lucy’s words through her brain again and again.

Lucy loves her. _Lucy_. Who’s currently looking at her like she’s expecting Morgan to do something shitty like reprimand her. Morgan stares right back in shock.

“...Morgan?” She says it like it isn’t the first time she tried to get her attention. “Morgan please say something, you’re scaring me.”

“You love me?” Morgan croaks.

Lucy blinks, clearly taken aback. “I thought...I thought you knew.” Her voice goes up at the end like she’s asking a question. Horror and panic fill her eyes and she raises a shaking hand to her mouth. “Oh god. I’m so sorry, Morgan. Please forget I said anything, I’m so sorry—”

Morgan barely hears her.

No. _No._ She can’t do this. Lucy loves her. Loves _her_. Morgan can’t do this, can’t be loved like this and offer nothing in return, not when it’s Lucy. Sweet, beautiful Lucy with the secret snarky side who makes the world disappear when they’re together and wears her entire fucking heart on her sleeve and how the fuck did Morgan _miss_ this? She should’ve seen it and put a stop to this months ago before...before….

Morgan will hurt her, there’s no doubt in her mind. _Fuck_ , she probably already has. That thought alone makes something that feels awfully like the panic she sees in Lucy’s eyes rise up in her throat.

It’s too much. Everything is too much. The room starts closing in on her and the sheets are too scratchy on her skin and the light filtering in through the blinds start hurting her eyes and Lucy’s looking at her like she’s worried about her and all at once Morgan feels _everything_.

“I need a cigarette,” she says shakily, and shoves off the bed. She throws on her clothes haphazardly and bolts from the room, not bothering to look back to confirm that Lucy’s probably staring at her open-mouthed like Morgan’s lost her mind.

She probably has.

Morgan digs into her pockets for her lighter and a cigarette as she walks and it takes one, two, three times for her shaking hands to properly light the thing.

Fuck.

 _Fuck_.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @ matsuoclan !


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